First You Have to Get There
by Elizabeth Culmer
Summary: After much stalling, Ginny goes on a date to Hogsmeade with Harry. Fifth year AU, sequel to 'Five Years Is an Awful Lot of Later.' Fluffy, mild teenage angst. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** Sequel to "Five Years Is an Awful Lot of Later." After much stalling, Ginny goes on a date to Hogsmeade with Harry. Fifth year AU, fluffy, mild teenage angst.

**Author's Note**: This story was begun in July of 2002 and finished in February of 2005. As such, it's not particularly compliant with OotP and HBP, though I incorporated scattered pieces of OotP canon after that book was published. The story is thus a sort of grandfathered AU -- the split point is Dolores Umbridge's death sometime before the end of GoF. No Umbridge means no Dementor attack on Harry and Dudley, which means that Harry and Ginny did _not_ interact that summer. It also removes a significant source of stress from their school life.

As always, thanks to my betas: Lasair, Miss Cora, and Quetzle. Any remaining canon goofs, grammar mistakes, continuity errors, implausible characterizations, bad dialogue, boring passages, and Americanisms are my fault, not theirs. Also, this story was previously published on Astronomy Tower at FictionAlley -- I've tweaked it a little, though, becauseI am a compulsive editor. :-)

Finally, I dedicate this story to Molly Kirkpatrick, who will have no idea why (nor is she likely to read it). Without her, however, it would not exist in its present form. She gave my sister the strangest ideas sometimes...

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**First You Have to Get There: Chapter 1  
**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Interrupted Dreams:**

"Ginny. Ginny, wake up."

Ginny Weasley, face firmly pressed into her feather pillow, said something that sounded rather like "Hmmrgmph."

The voice came again. "Ginny, wake up! It's Saturday, you're going to Hogsmeade with Harry. Get up!" A disembodied hand shook her shoulder roughly.

Ginny rolled away, hugging the pillow. She was having such a lovely dream about Harry -- he'd agreed to go to Hogsmeade with her and they were walking along the path to the village, hand in hand. He was smiling at her and she knew that in another minute he'd stop and they'd kiss, and then -- well, she wasn't _quite_ sure what would come next, but she definitely wanted to find out.

"_Ginny!_ Wake up, you dozy cow! You're going to Hogsmeade with Harry Potter, you have to meet him at breakfast, and you look like a hag!" The hand ripped her quilt back while another set of arms yanked the pillow out of her grasp.

Ginny woke with a start. "Oi! Stinking toad-licker -- give that back!" she yelled, scrabbling for her lost pillow; Apple Rumluck smiled and held it just out of reach. "I was sleeping!"

"Exactly," said Susan Ward, owner of the previously disembodied hand. "You were sleeping. Now you're not. You're hauling your lazy arse out of bed, washing up, and letting us make you beautiful. _You_ are going to Hogsmeade with Harry Potter. Remember?"

"Oh God," said Ginny. She sat up and ran her hands through her tangled red hair, fingers catching painfully on the knots. "Oh God. Help."

"That's what we're here for!" Susan grinned and grabbed Ginny's hands, her blue eyes glittering in a way Ginny found distinctly unsettling. "Up you get!"

Ginny stumbled and nearly collapsed as Susan jerked her upright, but Apple grabbed her right hand from Susan and the two girls steadied their sleepy friend. "You're going to look so pretty when we're done with you, Harry won't know what hit him," said Susan. "Right, Apple?"

"Of course. Come on, Ginny -- stand up," said Apple.

Ginny found herself being dragged to the showers despite her incoherent protests -- which her friends cheerfully ignored. This was going to be a horrible day. She knew it. She just _knew_.

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**Of Kissing:**

After the trauma of the shower and the beautification -- Ginny had fought Susan tooth and nail, trying to convince her friend to restrict her attention to clothing and jewelry, but she'd eventually resigned herself to curled hair, delicately outlined eyes, and rose lip gloss -- Ginny sat cross-legged on her bed to receive advice from Susan. Susan was an old hand at relationships, having been with Danny Park, the best-looking of the fourth year Gryffindor boys, since Christmas holidays last year.

She spent several minutes explaining the proper way to flirt -- how to give an alluring glance, how to casually brush against a boy's leg while sitting next to or across from him, how to speak in double entendres and subtle hints, and how to make a boy feel intelligent even when he was being bloody stupid. Apple listened from her bed, plaiting and pinning up her frizzy hair. She occasionally interrupted to remind Ginny that these tactics were all part of an elaborate game and the only way to build a solid relationship was to be herself.

"As Susan really is that frivolous, she's being herself all the time. But that isn't you," said Apple.

"Hmph," said Susan, leaning back against Ginny's bedpost. "So if I'm being useless here, Ginny, tell me what you really want to know. I have to have _some_ relevant experience -- if I don't, Danny will suffer."

Ginny looked down, flushing. There was only one thing she really wanted to know -- she was sure even if she tried to follow any of Susan's other advice, she'd only forget it -- but it was so childish. And embarrassing. Nevertheless...

"Howdyoukissim," she mumbled.

Apple stifled a snicker. Susan merely looked puzzled. "Come again?" she said.

Ginny's face grew hotter. "How... how do you kiss a boy?" she asked. "You know. I've never -- I've never -- well, I _haven't_. Only my brothers, when I was little. And that's not the same."

Apple collapsed with laughter, burying her face in her pillow. Ginny glared at her. "You aren't helping," she said. Apple waved her hands helplessly in Ginny's general direction. Ginny sighed.

Susan grinned wickedly. "You've never kissed a boy? And this is news? You turned down Eugene, so the only boy you've done anything vaguely romantic with is Neville Longbottom! And he's -- well -- Neville."

Ginny nodded. "Yes, but how do you?" she asked. "I mean, I imagine and stuff, and once Sarah Peasegood and I practiced on a pillow, but how do I know if I'm doing it right? I know you know -- you and Danny run off to snog in classrooms -- don't say you don't, I might follow you and walk in on you if you do -- I did it to Percy, after all!"

Apple, who had almost recovered from her fit of laughter, made a peculiar choking noise and dove back into her pillow, dislodging several hairpins.

"Well," said Susan, sitting up and shaking her blond hair back, "it's really very simple. You wait until the time is right -- you either just _know_ when that is, or you take a chance because he's being a bloody idiot. It tends not to make much difference; boys aren't about to refuse a pretty girl who wants to kiss them.

"Anyway, you tip your head to the side a bit -- he does the same in the other direction -- and you kiss. On the lips, of course. Press firmly -- but not too hard, unless you've kissed before or you're both overcome by passion." Susan grinned. "Then you can open your mouth a little, maybe lick his lips, touch his tongue, or let him into your mouth. But that's mostly for later, when you know each other better."

"Touch his tongue! Eww."

"Don't mock what you haven't tried," said Susan. "It's quite fun, actually. Come to think of it, you'd better try that on Harry today and fix your little problem -- you're far too innocent for your own good, you know."

Ginny chucked her pillow at Susan. "I am not! You're the one who has a problem -- you let Danny Park lick the inside of your mouth and you slobber all over his lips! Eww. I just -- eww. I don't want to think about it."

"Aah, shut it. What do you know, anyway?"

"Many things," said Apple, sitting up with a sly smile. "For example, I know the human mouth is astonishingly dirty and full of disease; you'd be more likely to get an infection from a human bite than a dog bite. How often does Danny brush his teeth, Susan?"

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "I did _not_ need to know that. I didn't need to hear any of this. Oh God, this is going to be horrible."

Susan swatted her with the pillow. "Stop whinging. You've been going on for days about how horrible the date will be. You went on for days about how Harry would laugh at you for asking, too. And did he laugh? No he didn't. Will today be horrible? No it won't. You may think Divination is all malarkey, but I tell you, I've seen your future and your future is good." Susan grinned and hauled her friend upright. "You know I'm always right. Even about kissing. Now stop being such a toad-licker and get down to the Great Hall.

Ginny walked out of the room, feeling disgruntled and slightly nauseated; behind her, she could hear Susan cheerfully lighting into Apple. At least those two were having fun.

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**Of the Fascination of Marmalade:**

Harry, Ron and Hermione were already sitting at the Gryffindor table when Ginny reached the Great Hall. The ceiling showed a cheerful blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds, which Ginny felt was quite inappropriate for the day. She ventured over to the trio.

"Good morning, Ginny," said Hermione, patting the seat next to her. "Toast?"

"Thanks." Ginny sat and began spreading marmalade on two pieces of toast. Ron was shoveling kippers and sausage into his mouth while Harry picked at a helping of scrambled eggs. Ginny studied her toast, spreading the marmalade in a perfectly even layer exactly one quarter inch thick -- she picked out the rinds.

"So, what d'you want to do today?" Harry asked suddenly, setting his fork aside. "Should we all stick together?"

Ginny looked up hopefully. "I don't mind," she said.

"Nonsense," said Hermione, hastily swallowing a mouthful of pumpkin juice. "You two don't need us hanging around, particularly not one of us," -- she stared pointedly at Ron, who blinked -- "and I'm sure Ron and I can find something to do without you."

"Oh. All right then," said Harry. "Ginny?"

Ginny mumbled her agreement and returned to her toast and marmalade. The rest of breakfast passed in silence -- Ron occupied with his kippers, Ginny and Harry picking at their food, and Hermione shooting long-suffering glances at all three of her friends.

Finally Ron cleared his plate and sat back with a long sigh. Hermione pressed her lips together firmly and managed to wait all of thirty seconds before standing and saying briskly, "Right then. Let's be off, shall we?"

"But I just finished," said Ron.

"Irrelevant. Get up. Don't you want to get to Honeydukes before the crowd buys all the good sweets?" Hermione reached across the table and grabbed his hand, pulling up and forward so hard he almost crashed into his greasy plate.

"All right, I'm coming, you don't have to kill me," Ron muttered balefully, and hurried out of the hall after Hermione. Ginny and Harry trailed after, not looking at each other.

This was not starting out well.

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**Of Conversational Quidditch and the Hazards Thereof:**

They continued not speaking until halfway to Hogsmeade, when Harry suddenly stopped and turned to Ginny. "This is silly," he said. "If we're out together we ought to at least talk to each other."

"Oh. Yes." Ginny fingered the cuffs of her blouse. Her mind was curiously blank, as if she were so afraid she hadn't the mental capacity to be consciously afraid anymore -- nervousness had become a sort of elemental state she occupied.

"So what do you want to talk about?" asked Harry, brushing his hair from his eyes, where the wind kept tossing it. He looked so wonderful in the morning light, Ginny thought, with the sun shining through his hair like a halo around a dark angel. And his eyes were certainly heavenly, though he did his best to hide them with his horrible round, thick-framed glasses.

Those eyes regarded her oddly, and she realized she'd been staring. "Er, it's a lovely day," she said hastily. "Very nice weather for autumn."

"Yeah," said Harry. He began walking again.

"I suppose it's good for Quidditch," said Ginny.

"Yeah, it's great," said Harry, lighting up slightly. "Except Angelina makes us get up nearly as early as Oliver did, and it's never this warm at six in the morning. Ron should be grateful he didn't make Keeper; maybe whoever's captain next year will be sane."

"He's better at Chaser anyway," said Ginny. "Bill and Percy are the only ones of us who were ever much good at Keeper. Ron and I always got stuck playing Chaser at home, Bill and Percy were Keepers and Chasers, the twins were Beaters, and Charlie would fill in wherever -- we cheated about the Bludgers, but we couldn't use a Snitch, of course. Charlie used to have to play Keeper after Bill left for Egypt, and he was _awful_ at it. Sometimes the boys even talked Mum into joining in, but only until Ron and I were old enough to play properly."

Harry was staring at her, eyes wide with astonishment. "You play Quidditch?"

"Er, yes?" said Ginny, surprised he didn't know that already. "Only not much anymore. It seems silly, winning and losing and chucking balls around. I'd rather just fly -- have fun, you know."

"Oh," said Harry. He seemed about to say something else, but didn't. He walked forward in silence.

Ginny wondered what she'd said wrong. She hadn't thought she could go wrong with Quidditch. Harry and Quidditch, perfect together.

And what was he on about anyhow, with his "Maybe whoever's captain next year will be sane?" He'd be captain. Did he honestly think anyone would pick Gwen Davies over him? She was a year behind him and this was her first year on the team. And he was Harry Potter, best Seeker Hogwarts had seen for years, youngest to make a house team in over a century, and, well, _Harry Potter_, for God's sake. Who did he think he was fooling?

"What?" said Harry.

Ginny blinked. "What do you mean, what?"

"You said something, but I didn't catch it," said Harry. "I'm sorry; I should have been paying more attention." His green eyes were huge, pupils contracted to points in the bright morning sun. Angel eyes. Magic eyes.

Very dangerous eyes, Ginny told herself firmly -- don't look into them! "It wasn't important," she said. "I was just thinking."

"Oh." Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and walked on, kicking aimlessly at the dusty path. He looked so normal, as if he weren't perhaps the only hope of defeating the Dark Lord. It wasn't fair that he couldn't just be Harry -- he had to be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, whose business was everybody's business whether he wanted or not.

It wasn't fair that he was so gorgeous.

"I was just wondering about something you said," Ginny blurted before she could rationalize and stop herself. "You said maybe next year's captain would be sane. But you're going to be captain. You'll have five new players and the only other person continuing is Gwen. There's no question.

"So why did you say that?"

Harry looked genuinely surprised; his mouth opened slightly and he didn't answer for several seconds. "I don't know," he said. "I never thought about it. Why would anyone make me captain? I don't know what to do!"

"It can't be _that_ hard," said Ginny. "Charlie managed, after all, and he's awfully daft. _And_ he was a Seeker, so it's not just Keepers and Chasers who can manage. You've been playing four years now -- you must have watched all the drills."

Harry gaped like a beached fish. "But..." he said, and trailed off. He tried again. "But who would listen to me? And I'd have to schedule things, and order people around, and..."

Ginny couldn't believe this. She'd long suspected Harry was a bit funny in the head for willingly hanging around with her brothers, but this was too much. "Look here," she said firmly, interrupting him. "You're _Harry Potter_. Of course they'll bloody listen to you. And you can _so_ organize things and give orders -- if I can, anyone can -- and before you ask, I order people around in Herbology and Potions. And if you're ever lost for strategy, you can ask Ron. Or me."

Harry closed his mouth. "Oh," he said. "Er, right." In an obvious and rather inept attempt to change the subject, he asked, "Do you think you might try out next year? Since we'll need three Chasers and all?"

"Maybe, but I doubt it," said Ginny. "I do out-of-class work for Professor Sprout -- you know, like Neville -- and that takes a lot of time. Plus I'll have to study for the OWLs."

"Oh. Pity, that." Harry shoved his hands back into his pockets and fell silent.

They continued towards Hogsmeade, Ginny silently cursing herself for treating Harry like one of her brothers. It must have been his eyes, she thought. Her mouth slipped from under conscious control when he looked at her -- but usually it did things like squeak embarrassingly, not tell him off. Perhaps the dying fish expression had caused her strange reaction.

Yes, it must have done. Nobody could look sexy while imitating a gasping fish. Not even Harry.

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**AN:** Thanks for reading, and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** Sequel to "Five Years Is an Awful Lot of Later." After much stalling, Ginny goes on a date to Hogsmeade with Harry. We left her contemplating the sex-appeal of Harry as a gasping fish; in this chapter, the pair reach Hogsmeade and have a small run-in with Draco Malfoy. Fifth year AU, fluffy, mild teenage angst.

**Author's Note**: This story was begun in July of 2002 and finished in February of 2005. As such, it's not particularly compliant with OotP and HBP, though I incorporated scattered pieces of OotP canon after that book was published. The story is thus a sort of grandfathered AU -- the split point is Dolores Umbridge's death sometime before the end of GoF. No Umbridge means no Dementor attack on Harry and Dudley, which means that Harry and Ginny did _not_ interact that summer. It also removes a significant source of stress from their school life.

As always, thanks to my betas: Lasair, Miss Cora, and Quetzle. Any remaining canon goofs, grammar mistakes, continuity errors, implausible characterizations, bad dialogue, boring passages, and Americanisms are my fault, not theirs. Also, this story was previously published on Astronomy Tower at FictionAlley -- I've tweaked it a little, though, because I am a compulsive editor. :-)

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  
**First You Have to Get There: Chapter 2  
**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Hands:**

As they walked into Hogsmeade, Harry slowed and looked around. "Where d'you want to go?" he asked, waving a hand haphazardly at the town. "Whatever you want, I don't mind, anywhere's fine with me." He seemed desperate for Ginny to express an opinion so he wouldn't have to choose.

"Er, maybe we should go to the Three Broomsticks and get something to drink," said Ginny. "I'm a bit thirsty from the walk. And we can decide what to do next."

"Great!" said Harry. He grabbed her hand and hurried into the town, pushing through the crowd of students thronging in the streets. Ginny stumbled after him, hand tingling and mind blank.

Harry was holding her hand.

Mind you, he'd probably only grabbed it because he wanted to get to the Three Broomsticks as fast as possible and didn't want to lose her in the crowd, but still, he was _holding her hand!_ Ginny felt herself flushing and breathing heavily. Please let her hand not get sweaty in his. Please let her be calm when they got inside and sat down.

Harry waved at someone with his free hand and pulled Ginny a bit closer. "Almost there -- gosh, there's a lot of people out today," he said, bending to speak into her ear.

Ginny nodded, face burning. From the corner of her eye, she saw Susan and Danny watching from the other side of the street. Danny waved; Susan grinned and stuck out her tongue. Ginny turned away quickly, hoping Harry hadn't seen anything.

Apparently she was in luck, as he pulled her to the door of the Three Broomsticks without making any comments about her friends. "So here we are," he said, shifting his feet slightly. He still had hold of her hand.

"Shouldn't we go in?" asked Ginny.

"Oh, right." Harry pushed open the door and walked inside, still holding her hand. He threaded his way through the crowded room, eyes fixed on an empty two-person table near the back. Ginny stumbled behind him, not quite fitting through the gaps he created among the other customers.

She wondered, idly, why he thought he couldn't dance -- he certainly knew how to move well enough.

But that wasn't important. What was important was that Harry's hand still grasped hers, and hers was getting sticky with sweat. In fact, she was sweating all over; her blouse probably had wet patches under the arms despite Susan's homemade antiperspirant potion. Why had she trusted Susan to make that potion? The girl was Muggle-born -- what did she know about potions!

Harry pulled out a chair and helped Ginny into it, before she quite realized what he was doing. As a result, she sat down a bit more heavily than she'd intended, and flushed. He seemed not to notice.

However, he let go of her hand.

Was that a good thing or not?

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**Of Relative Financial Status:**

Harry hovered next to Ginny's chair, seemingly uncertain whether or not he should also sit. "Do you want anything to drink?" he asked after a few seconds. "You said you were thirsty..."

"Oh. Yes. Butterbeer, I suppose, but I can get it," said Ginny, starting to stand up.

"No!" said Harry hastily. "No, stay here. I'll get it for you. We'd, er, lose the table if we both went." He strode off toward the bar, leaving Ginny alone and perplexed.

What was that about? Yes, the room was full and tables hard to find, but that didn't explain why Harry seemed so nervous about letting her fetch the drinks. She watched him speak to Madam Rosmerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks, and slip a few coins across the bar in return for two bottles of butterbeer and two heavy glasses.

Oh. He wanted to pay for the drinks.

Ginny frowned. Was he doing that because he was nice, because he knew her family didn't have much money, or because he actually -- perhaps, maybe, just a little -- liked her?

Did she dare hope he might like her?

Probably not, Ginny decided, sighing. Harry was just being Harry and he knew how touchy Ron was about the Weasleys' poverty in comparison to Harry's wealth -- wait, just how well-off was Harry anyway? She'd never got a clear idea. Obviously he had money, since he never seemed to run out, but that might just be because he was only one person with the money for a family of three... oh, toad guts, she shouldn't even _think_ about his parents like that.

"Hey Ginny," said Harry, breaking into her self-recriminations. "Here's your butterbeer."

"Thanks," she said, carefully not looking at him. This proved to be a mistake, since she noticed Apple, Colin Creevey, and Apple's cousin Daphne sitting near the front of the room. Daphne waved and grinned, then pointed at Colin, who was peering through his camera lens. Ginny flinched as the flash went off.

"What was that?" asked Harry, blinking.

"Colin," said Ginny flatly, face burning. "I hate my friends."

Harry flushed in return, sinking low in his chair. "Stupid question -- I should have known, but he's been less annoying this year."

"Apple hides his camera during the week," Ginny told him.

"Oh. Tell her 'thank you' for me sometime," said Harry, still hunched over.

Ginny glanced toward the front again and saw her friends' retreating backs; she glared at them, but they exited unharmed. "You can sit up -- they're leaving."

"Good," said Harry with great relief.

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**Of Bathrobes and Malfoys:**

Ginny and Harry sat across from each other at their small table in awkward silence. Ginny fiddled with her butterbeer, sliding the bottle back and forth between her hands. Harry opened his and poured the liquid into his glass where it foamed and hissed quietly. He stared at the sinking foam.

"So," said Ginny.

"Erm," said Harry.

They fell silent again.

After a minute, Ginny couldn't stand the tension anymore and burst out, "Oh, for goodness' sake, say something!"

Harry blinked. "Er, lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes, and the weather's fine for autumn, and Quidditch is going well, and there are a lot of people here today, and we've already _had_ this conversation," said Ginny. "What do you talk about with Ron and Hermione anyhow? You can't just stare at each other all day."

"We just talk," said Harry. "About stuff. Er, Ron complains about work and the professors -- Hermione's always on about how we ought to be paying more attention to things -- something mysterious is usually going on -- I don't know."

Ginny grabbed the first idea. "You talk about school. I can do that. Professor Switch -- she teaches Muggle Studies -- just assigned us a four foot essay about electricity and its various sources. Dad's making me send him a copy -- he thinks he might be able to get some use out of his plug collection." She sighed. "I like the class, but it's embarrassing to ask Dad's questions for him. He sends lists every week and they're always so _stupid_. You'd think he'd have picked up something after all the time he's spent in his department, but he hasn't."

Harry's face crinkled into a small grin. "Your father is a bit out of it sometimes," he allowed.

"Truer words have never been spoken," agreed Ginny. "What I can't figure out is how every one of my brothers managed to get out of taking Muggle Studies. Dad's been dying to have someone explain everything to him for years, but I don't remember the twins or Ron saying anything about him pushing them into the class."

"You know, you're right!" said Harry. "I remember choosing subjects second year and the only person who gave me or Ron any advice was Percy. And it's funny your dad sends lists of questions -- I don't remember Ron getting letters from home -- except the Howler of course."

"Probably the Weasels couldn't afford the parchment to send any," drawled a familiar, and very unwelcome, voice.

Not _now_, thought Ginny, not _him_. Not when Harry was finally talking to her!

"Malfoy," said Harry, turning to face the Slytherin and his ever-present thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. "What are you doing here?"

Draco Malfoy raised his pale eyebrows in false surprise. "I'm only passing by -- it's a public room after all -- and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. You do have interesting taste in friends, Potter. And in girlfriends -- the Weaselette wants to thank her hero _traditionally_, I suppose." He sneered idly at Ginny.

"You take that back!" shouted Ginny, shooting to her feet. Dimly she noticed Harry pushing back his chair and standing beside her, but her attention was focused on Draco. "You take that back, you stinking ferret!"

"Filthy Muggle-lover," spat Draco, flushing with rage. Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward, looming ominously.

"Go away, Malfoy." Harry's voice was low but firm and his hand on Ginny's shoulder was steady, pressing lightly downwards. Ginny quivered, struggling not to lose control and lunge for Draco's throat.

"Or what? Too scared to face me, Potter?" Draco sneered.

"You wish," said Harry. "But getting you thrown out for trying to start a fight would be a lot of bother for me -- and I don't think your _father_ would be happy to hear about it. Go away."

Draco snarled but stalked away, Crabbe and Goyle trailing after him like vicious puppies. Ginny glared at his retreating back, wishing she could cast curses with her eyes. Insult her family, would he? Say she was after Harry for... because of... for _that_, would he? And say it _in front of Harry?_ Filthy, toad-licking scumbag!

I hate him, I hate him, I hate the bast-- no, don't think about it or you'll explode, she told herself. Let it go. She dug her fingers into her palms and chanted silently: he doesn't matter, I will not swear, he doesn't matter, I will not swear, he doesn't matter-- "Merlin's bloody flowered bathrobe!" Damn.

Harry's head snapped around, green eyes wide and astonished. "Ginny?"

"What?" she snapped, still fuming.

Harry blinked, shook his head, blinked again, and stopped fighting a smile. "Merlin's bloody flowered bathrobe?" he said incredulously. "Merlin's bloody flowered _bathrobe?_ I've heard of Merlin's beard, but Merlin's _bathrobe?_" He doubled over laughing.

Ginny collapsed into her chair and dropped her face into her hands. Damn Draco Malfoy, she thought. Damn him and his insults and his idiot sidekicks. And his bloody bathrobe.

She was never going to get over this.

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**Of New Beginnings:**

"Stop it," said Ginny. Harry kept laughing. "I said stop it -- it wasn't _that_ funny. Really it wasn't."

"I know, I know -- it was just Malfoy -- and then -- and the _bathrobe_--" gasped Harry, trying to sit up.

Ginny gave up and poured her butterbeer into the glass, watching the foam settle. The day was utterly ruined -- Harry would never take her seriously now -- but she might as well enjoy her drink. She took a sip, letting the warm liquid slide down her throat and settle her churning stomach. It was all Mum's fault, ultimately, decided Ginny -- teaching her not to swear -- making her reach for silly words instead -- setting her up so Harry would laugh... well, toad guts to her. And toad guts to Susan too, for pushing her into this situation in the first place. She'd been perfectly happy just watching Harry from the sides. Really.

"Sorry about that," said Harry, finally calm again. "I shouldn't have laughed at you -- it was just the last thing I expected to hear, 'specially after Malfoy was such a git. You shouldn't have had to hear that."

Ginny waved him off. "I've heard worse and I don't mind as much as Ron -- he's oversensitive because he gets all the hand-me-down clothes."

"You don't?"

"Of course not -- I'm a girl!" Ginny giggled at Harry's dumbfounded expression. Somehow it was much easier to deal with him now that she knew nothing would come of the day. He was still gorgeous and still Harry, of course, but suddenly she could notice that he was being daft.

"Oh. I knew that," he said.

"Mum will be so pleased you noticed!" said Ginny, grinning. "She spent years convincing me I couldn't be just like my brothers --has it worked?"

"Er, yes?" Harry took a nervous swallow of his butterbeer.

"You could try to sound more convincing."

"Sorry," said Harry. "I don't think I'm doing very well today. First I can't think of anything to say, then I bring Malfoy after you -- you must think I'm an idiot."

Ginny grinned and took another sip of butterbeer. She'd never teased Harry to his face before, but it was surprisingly fun -- she'd have to try this again sometime. "Don't worry about it," she said. "It isn't as if I had anything much to say either and you're not responsible for Draco Malfoy. You didn't tell him to be a git, after all."

"No, he does that himself," said Harry with a small smile. Ginny laughed.

"See?" she said. "Nothing to worry about. Where were we before he interrupted?"

Harry scrunched his face as he tried to remember -- he looked so silly and adorable that way -- she wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be fine. "You said Mr. Weasley pushed you into taking Muggle Studies but didn't say anything to your brothers, and I said I didn't remember Ron getting any letters from home."

"Really?" asked Ginny. "That's funny; I wrote to him every week his first year. We used to do everything together, so I was lonely a lot."

"Maybe Errol couldn't fly fast enough to make the morning delivery," said Harry. "He always seemed exhausted whenever I saw him."

"That's probably it," agreed Ginny. "Errol's older than I am, you know. But Ron never wrote back much anyway, and then he was gone for Christmas holidays too."

"I'm sorry," said Harry morosely, staring into his butterbeer. "He only stayed because I couldn't go back to the Dursleys."

"That wasn't your fault," said Ginny hastily. Drat, she hadn't meant to sound accusing and now Harry was feeling guilty for no reason. "Honestly, Mum and Dad were happy to be rid of the boys," she continued. "They took me to see Great-Aunt Maggie that year, and we never visit her because she doesn't have room for us all."

"I didn't know you had a Great-Aunt Maggie -- Ron never talks about his family," said Harry, sounding mildly interested.

Aha! thought Ginny, if she distracted him he'd forget to feel guilty. She leaned forward, peering around dramatically. "I'll tell you why he never talks about us," she whispered, "but you can't tell him I said anything; it's a secret."

Harry shot her a doubtful look but leaned forward.

"Ron never talks about the family because we embarrass him," said Ginny into Harry's ear. "It's the red hair -- he's bitter about looking like a carrot, he says -- and Uncle Edward's breath reeks of garlic."

"Really?" asked Harry.

"No! Of course not!" said Ginny, sitting up and giggling. "Well, Uncle Edward's breath really does smell and Ron _is_ embarrassed of Dad, but we're all embarrassed of Dad so that's nothing special. I think he just forgets about us unless we're there. He never talked about me or Bill or Charlie, did he?"

"No..." said Harry slowly.

"There you go! That's the real secret -- Ron has a terrible memory -- unless he's playing chess, of course. Then he remembers everything. It's very irritating."

"You play chess?" said Harry. "I've never seen you play."

"You can't live with Ron for ten years and not play chess -- I bet it was one of the first things he taught you. It was, wasn't it?" said Ginny, waving her glass for emphasis.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, he taught me. I'm not very good though; he always wins. Does anyone ever beat him?"

"Bill, now and then -- it's because he spends so much time figuring out how to get past traps and curses while he's out treasure-hunting -- Bill taught Ron to play, you know. And I beat him once when I was eight." Ginny sighed. "I have no idea how I managed that and I've never done it again."

"If you ever find out, tell me!" said Harry. "I don't mind losing but I think Ron gets bored of playing me, and Hermione's always busy studying. And I have Quidditch practice anyway."

"He can play other people besides you two -- why not a sixth or seventh year? Why not a Ravenclaw?" asked Ginny.

Harry paused to think about this, running his hands through his messy hair. "I have no idea, actually," he said after a while. "Somehow we never talk to anyone outside of Gryffindor -- except Malfoy, but he doesn't count."

"Really? Nobody in my year is like that," said Ginny. "My friend Xanthe's in Hufflepuff, and Apple's cousin Daphne is in Slytherin, and we're all friends. We're going to have to deal with people from other houses after we leave Hogwarts, after all -- there's no reason not to get started now."

"I suppose..." said Harry, as if this had never occurred to him. Ginny wavered between sighing over the way confusion narrowed his eyes, concentrating their sparkle, and groaning over his obliviousness.

"It's because of Ron, isn't it," she said. "He's my brother and I love him, but he's a toad-licking idiot. Gryffindor this, Gryffindor that, rah rah Gryffindor." She pulled a sour face. "Slytherins are evil so don't talk to them, Ravenclaws are a bunch of book-fiends so stay away from them, and Hufflepuffs are boring so why bother. That's exactly what he thinks -- I know it is! He's such an _idiot_."

Harry stared blankly at her.

Ginny flinched and pulled her carefully curled hair into a curtain over her face, ruining Susan's work. "Oh, now you hate me! I didn't mean it -- well, I did -- but not the way it sounded! Ron's a great person! He's just... lazy, that's it. And Draco Malfoy does _not_ give anyone great faith in Slytherins, so I completely excuse you there."

Ginny waited a few seconds, then peeked through her hair. Harry was still silent, though he'd pulled himself together enough to hide his expression. "Harry?"

He shook his head slowly. "Wow. Er, don't take this the wrong way, but I've known you for, what, three and a half years now?" -- he scrunched his face up, then nodded -- "yes, since summer before my second year -- and I just realized I don't know you at all. I know you're nice -- you went to the Yule Ball with Neville, after everything -- but that's awfully vague."

"Oh," said Ginny, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I sort of knew that, actually -- after all, it's not as if we talk much."

"Yeah."

They drank butterbeer in silence for a minute before Harry said, with the air of a man making a great confession, "I feel like an idiot for not realizing that."

"That's okay," said Ginny.

"And now isn't a good time for me to realize that," continued Harry, "since we're supposed to be out together -- which ought to mean we like each other -- which ought to mean we know each other. But we hardly ever talk, so we don't really know each other -- I thought you were shy, actually, but you have loads of friends and I didn't know that. So why are we here?" He looked at Ginny, as if expecting her to produce an answer.

Ginny ducked back behind her hair. "Because I think you're nice? And I wanted to get to know you?" Her voice was squeaking again -- she'd thought she was past this! The day had been ruined -- she didn't have to be embarrassed anymore -- but she was embarrassed anyway. It wasn't fair!

But wait, Harry was talking. "I think -- I think I said yes because I'd like to get to know you too," he said, his voice suddenly small and lonely. "I don't have a lot of friends -- maybe we can be friends. And then you won't have to miss Ron anymore."

Ron's not the _point_, she wanted to yell at him, she hadn't missed him since first year -- and she didn't want to be _friends_ -- but that wouldn't do any good. "Okay," she said instead. "Hi. My name is Ginevra Weasley, but you can call me Ginny. Nice to meet you."

Harry's smile burst across his face, chasing away the shadows that lingered in the backs of his eyes. "I'm Harry Potter," he said. "Nice to meet you, Ginny."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**AN:** To be continued... Thanks for reading, and please review!

To **Makokam** -- "First You Have to Get There" and "Secrets" are symbiotic. This is because I began writing them at approximately the same time and worked out my understanding of Ginny as I went. Most of my stories that include Ginny or other Weasleys assume "Secrets" as their background (as well as "In Light of Later Events" and "Shame," which I don't think I've posted here) but after CoS, they diverge -- in some cases quite radically.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** Sequel to "Five Years Is an Awful Lot of Later." After much stalling, Ginny goes on a date to Hogsmeade with Harry. We left them with a new agreement to be friends; in this chapter, that resolve is tested as they try to actually get to know each other. Fifth year AU, fluffy, mild teenage angst.

**Author's Note**: This story was begun in July of 2002 and finished in February of 2005. As such, it's not particularly compliant with OotP and HBP, though I incorporated scattered pieces of OotP canon after that book was published. The story is thus a sort of grandfathered AU -- the split point is Dolores Umbridge's death sometime before the end of GoF. No Umbridge means no Dementor attack on Harry and Dudley, which means that Harry and Ginny did _not_ interact that summer. It also removes a significant source of stress from their school life.

As always, thanks to my betas: Lasair, Miss Cora, and Quetzle. Any remaining canon goofs, grammar mistakes, continuity errors, implausible characterizations, bad dialogue, boring passages, and Americanisms are my fault, not theirs. Also, this story was previously published on Astronomy Tower at FictionAlley -- I've tweaked it a little, though, because I am a compulsive editor. :-)

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  
**First You Have to Get There: Chapter 3  
**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Ways to Stall Conversations:**

Deciding to be friends was all well and good, thought Ginny, but it didn't provide much by way of instructions. Harry seemed to be even more hopeless around girls than she was around him -- hard to believe, but there it was -- so she felt she ought to take the lead.

"We're nearly done with our drinks. Let's go to Honeydukes next and then look around the other shops," she said.

"Okay," agreed Harry.

They took their bottles and glasses back to the counter -- the table was immediately claimed behind them -- and walked out into the street, Ginny leading. She quickly fell back to walk beside Harry, who was squinting against the late morning sun.

The day wasn't turning out as badly as she'd thought it would, but it was still very awkward. In some ways, Ginny wished she didn't like Harry so much. It had been much easier going around casually with boys in her year, mostly because she didn't expect anything out of it. She'd never bothered asking Susan how to kiss _them_.

Liking people was more trouble than it was worth, she decided, at least right now. Maybe she'd get over her butterflies by the time she left Hogwarts. For the moment, though, Harry wanted to be friends and she'd do her best to squash down any other feelings.

Ginny reminded herself not to look into his eyes; squeaking or babbling wouldn't help anything.

They wandered in and out of Honeydukes, where Harry bought a bag of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, and stopped for a while at the local broom shop. Ginny wasn't nearly as wild about Quidditch as her brothers, but she could at least talk brooms. Harry, for his part, seemed relieved to have a safe topic of conversation

"I wonder what the Nimbus company is doing to compete with the Firebolt," he said as they left the broom shop.

"They're working on a new model," said Ginny. "It's called the Cirrus, I think, but it won't be ready for another year or so. The Firebolt caught them by surprise, Charlie says."

Harry looked interested. "Charlie keeps track of racing brooms?"

"Yeah. He was a Seeker, and you need good brooms for chasing after dragons," said Ginny. "They always need good flyers on the reserve; you'd be good at that, actually."

"Hmmm," said Harry. "How did he end up there?"

Ginny grinned, happy to tell family stories that Ron obviously didn't think were worth mentioning. "He's always been mad about dragons -- like Hagrid and his nasty beasts -- and he finagled a probationary job using Dad's connections at the Ministry. Usually you need a special training course to qualify as a dragon-handler, but he got them to count his flying skills and his Care of Magical Creatures NEWTs as equivalent to passing the course. Dad was all for it; he's as mad about travel as he is about Muggles, and he's just tickled pink that his sons work in foreign countries. Mum went mental, though. She wanted Charlie to be an Auror -- that way he could still have adventures but he'd be close to home."

"She thinks being an Auror is safer than watching dragons?" asked Harry incredulously. "After... after last year?"

Ginny flinched. "Well, probably not anymore. But back then he -- er, You-Know-Who, I mean -- was supposed to be dead. We were putting things back together and Mum's big on getting things set up the way she wants. She thought sons in the Ministry would be helpful."

"Mmm," said Harry, looking aside. "I suppose Percy's changed her mind about that."

Oh, toad guts, thought Ginny, why did she always bring up awkward topics by accident? How to change the subject... "Do you want to look at the other shops, or just walk around for a bit?" she asked. "There's a sort of junk shop toward the edge of town, and there are some interesting charm shops."

Harry shook his head. "Let's go to the lake," he said. "I don't..." He trailed off.

"Don't what?"

Harry looked around and leaned closer to Ginny, making sure no one could overhear him. Ginny suppressed a twitch at the way his breath ghosted against her ear and tried to pay attention to what he was saying. Friends, she reminded herself. Only friends.

"Everyone always _looks_ at me," said Harry, "like I'm mad, or I'm a hero, or something like that. I _hate_ it. I never asked for this! And it's worse since this summer, since the _Daily Prophet_ kept denying anything's happened and Fudge said I was mad, and Hermione says they kept working me into stories as sort of a nasty joke. They all stare at me like..." He trailed off uncomfortably.

"Oh," said Ginny. "Er, sorry."

Harry shrugged and turned half away.

"I know what you mean, though," she added. "I remember how everyone looked at me after the Chamber of Secrets. But nobody talked about it. They just wanted to see the silly little girl who was stupid enough to be friends with a soul-sucking diary and almost got herself killed."

Harry glanced at her in surprise. "Oh."

"The worst part," said Ginny, looking vaguely toward the lake, "was having to put up with Mum and Dad and my brothers when all I wanted was to be alone sometimes. And I felt horrible about wanting them to go away, and I yelled at them and felt awful about yelling, but it got better. Eventually. I bet they'll stop staring at you so much in a few weeks."

She forced a grin. "Unless you stab someone with a fork."

Harry snorted. "Malfoy would deserve it."

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**Of Certain Points of View:**

They walked in mildly uncomfortable silence to the lakeshore, not exactly avoiding each other's eyes, but not trying to restart the conversation either. The lake was tinted with blue under the bright, cloudless sky, but the water was still mostly grey. Small ripples ran aground on the narrow shore, making shushing, slapping noises.

Harry perched on a convenient rock, leaving Ginny to either perch edgewise beside him or drag over a log. She chose the log, after wandering around a bit and finding one without too much moss or rotting bark. "So," she said, sitting as gracefully as possible under the circumstances, and resting her arms on her knees.

"Yeah," said Harry unhelpfully.

Ginny had a moment of extreme frustration, a red wave of irritation splashing over her the way the tiny ripples drowned the muddy sand of the lakeshore. Was Harry like this all the time, or was he just not talking because she was the wrong girl or the wrong Weasley? And after he'd told her how he felt about people looking and she'd told him a secret in return.

_Boys_. Amazing green eyes and longstanding crush notwithstanding, they were a bunch of useless toad-lickers. All of them!

She cast her mind back to The Three Broomsticks, trying to remember what he said he talked about with Ron and Hermione. School... they'd done that. Something mysterious that was usually going on... maybe she ought to try that. If that didn't work she'd have to try Quidditch again, or give up and throw something at him.

"You said you talk to Ron and Hermione about mysterious things that go on. Is anything happening so far this year? With You-Know-Who, I mean?" She grimaced. "Ron says nobody told you anything during the summer, but it isn't as if we knew much either -- just spent weeks trying to clear out Sirius's house -- er, you did know about his house, right?"

Harry frowned fiercely. "Yeah, he wrote to me; he hates it. But Voldemort's not doing anything, at least not like before. That's the problem. He's waiting until everyone stops worrying, and then he's going to attack. I know it." He glanced at her. "I... sometimes I see things -- what he does, what he sees -- because of my scar." His hand drifted up to rub at his forehead.

"Pretending to be harmless?" said Ginny, skipping over the scar revelation for now. "That sounds like Tom -- he always was a sneaky, scum-sucking, lying, treacherous bastard."

Harry blinked. "Tom?"

Ginny blinked back. "What about him?"

Harry shook his head, staring at her. "You called Voldemort 'Tom.' Why did you call him Tom?"

Ginny blinked again. "No I didn't. I called Tom 'Tom.'"

Harry stared harder and said, as if speaking to an idiot, "He's the same person. Tom Riddle is Voldemort. Voldemort is Tom Riddle."

"Oh. Well, yes, of course," said Ginny, flapping her hand helplessly. "I know that. I just... it's hard to think of You-Know-Who as an actual person. And Tom was my friend, in a way. I can sort of see how he could have got worse from where he was in the diary, but it's hard to connect him to, well, you know. I only meant that I could see Tom being sneaky, the way You-Know-Who is now."

"Oh," said Harry, leaning back on his rock. "What was he like in the diary? Er, if you don't mind talking about it."

Ginny shrugged. "It's all right -- I've had a few years to think about it. He was... nice. He listened to me, told me I was special and a good friend, helped me with my classwork, and told me how to get back at some people I didn't like. Except it was all pretending -- he slanted everything he said until I only trusted him and I didn't have any other friends, nobody to notice when... when things started going wrong.

"Then I figured out he was doing it, and he told me it was all my fault." She frowned and hurled a pebble into the lake. "And I believed him. Because Mrs. Norris used to chase me, and I didn't like Colin, and I didn't like the way Justin Finch-Fletchley was talking about you. So I thought, what if I _was_ doing it and he was only helping?" She threw another stone and watched the ripples intently.

"But you're not like that!" said Harry.

Ginny looked at him. "I really was happy that Colin wasn't around to bother me anymore."

Harry blinked.

Ginny waved her hand. "Oh, I didn't want him Petrified, and I was upset because I was the one who suggested he visit you in the infirmary at night, but I was happy he was out of the way. And Tom knew it. He used things like that, things he knew because I'd _told_ him."

She paused, struck by a sudden thought. "You said you can see him... can he see you?"

Harry twitched as if suppressing some reaction.

"He can, can't he?" said Ginny, leaning forward and catching his shadowed eyes. "If he shows you anything, don't trust it! He always knows how to get to you, to make you do what he wants and think it's your own idea."

"In the diary," said Harry slowly, "Riddle showed me the night he accused Hagrid of opening the Chamber. I thought he was like me, that his orphanage was like the... I liked him. But Voldemort isn't like that anymore. He isn't _human_ anymore! And he's stupid -- he could've killed me anytime in the graveyard, but he let me go so we could duel.

"Riddle was like that too!" he continued fiercely. "I was dying, and he kept on bragging, explaining his plans -- he gave Fawkes time to heal me. He's not as clever as you think he is."

"Oh," said Ginny softly. "I never knew what happened down there -- nobody told me, just that you killed the Basilisk and killed Tom by destroying the diary. I didn't know you were hurt. Thank you."

"But you were there when I told Dumbledore," said Harry.

"I was falling to pieces, not listening to you!" snapped Ginny. "I'd been possessed off and on for months, and I'd just almost died. I was eleven!"

"I was twelve," snapped Harry, meeting Ginny's glare head-on. "I almost died too."

Ginny held Harry's eyes for several more seconds before the intensity of their green color broke through her irritation. She was arguing with Harry! Oh God, he'd never like her now... but he was being such an _idiot_.

"Sorry," she said, although she didn't manage to sound particularly upset.

"Fine," said Harry. He turned back to the lake and pulled his knees to his chest. Ginny stared out over the water, wondering where exactly they'd gone off-track.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Muggle Psychology:**

Ginny blinked at the hand that had just shoved itself in front of her face and blocked her contemplation of the lake. "What?"

"I said we ought to get back to Hogsmeade," said Harry, lowering his hand slightly. "It's almost noon, and I thought we should get lunch."

"Oh. Right." Ginny shoved herself upright, ignoring the tacit offer of Harry's hand, and began walking back to the village. Harry fell in beside her.

It had been... not peaceful, exactly, but not bad to just sit next to Harry. Even though she'd been annoyed at him. At the least, she finally knew what he'd done in the Chamber -- the Basilisk must have bitten or crushed him while he was killing it. He'd almost died. For her.

Mind you, he probably would have done that for almost anyone -- Harry was like that, whether he admitted it or not -- but still, Ginny thought, it was nice to know that her life counted for at least that much.

It was nice to know that Harry had liked Tom at first, too. So she hadn't been as stupid as she sometimes felt, to not notice how something was _off_ about him.

"You really should be careful about You-Know-Who," she blurted suddenly. "I know his plans make no sense sometimes, but he really _is_ good at finding your weak spots and _pushing_. He can make you think you're doing something because you want to, but really it's because _he_ wants you to do it."

Harry looked at her sidelong. "When Riddle showed me Hagrid, there was a monster," he said slowly. "It wasn't the Basilisk, but it _was_ a monster, and it _was_ dangerous. And I knew Hagrid doesn't understand about dangerous animals. So I believed him."

Ginny winced. "I told him about Hagrid -- that he's your friend," she admitted. "Sorry."

Harry shrugged. "You didn't know. But I see what you mean about Riddle knowing where to push people."

"He's doing it to you again," said Ginny, suddenly sure of herself. "He is, isn't he."

Harry was silent for a while; Ginny waited. "I have dreams," he said suddenly, turning off the path to Hogsmeade and standing still. "There's a long corridor with a door at the end -- I want to go through -- there's something on the other side that I need to find. But I don't know what it is." He looked expectantly at Ginny.

Ginny thought for a moment. "Ron says you're rubbish at Divination," she said carefully. "Is that true?"

Harry offered her a wry grin. "I'm good at making up painful ways to die -- that's about it."

Ginny smiled back, then continued. "So it probably isn't a real prophetic dream. In that case, either you're worried about something or somebody's sending the dream to you." She grimaced. "Before Tom really starting possessing me -- I completely blanked out then -- he sort of nudged me to do things in my sleep. I had the oddest dreams for months. He used to analyze them with Muggle psychology, and it seemed to make sense when he explained it.

"I looked it up, after, to see if he'd been lying. And the worst thing was that mostly he hadn't been -- dreams really can be about things that are bothering you, just mixed up and making no sense. So maybe that's all that your dreams are.

"_But_," said Ginny, holding up her hands to stop Harry from interrupting, "sometimes dreams really are magical. And you can't trust psychology around Tom. So what do you think?"

Harry frowned. "It has to be magic," he said eventually.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Then it's probably You-Know-Who," said Ginny. "He must want something behind a door, and either it's leaking or he wants you to get it for him. Or," -- a terrible idea struck her -- "maybe there's something behind the door that'll kill you!"

But Harry was shaking his head. "No, he wants to kill me himself. He's got to prove he's better -- that's why he wanted to duel me."

"Stupid," muttered Ginny. "It'd be a lot simpler to just curse you from behind."

"Yeah, but then I'd be dead."

Ginny bit back a laugh. "I suppose it's a good thing he's always been full of himself."

Harry grinned weakly. "Yeah. He's still dangerous, though." He rubbed his scar absently and Ginny winced, remembering why You-Know-Who hated Harry so much. Harry was, after all, the first person to ever survive him.

"Maybe he just goes to pieces around you," she suggested. "You saved me."

"But not Cedric."

The words fell like lead weights on the conversation, and both Ginny and Harry shifted their feet awkwardly.

You stupid toad-licker! Ginny scolded herself. Now look what she'd done. Every time she thought she might be getting somewhere -- might be learning how to actually talk with Harry, or how to be his friend -- she had to put her foot in it. First she'd as much as called him an idiot over Quidditch, then she'd yelled at him for saving her, and now she'd reminded him of Cedric.

How to fix this? She couldn't think of anything to say -- what could anyone say about dueling You-Know-Who and watching someone be murdered? Well, they'd been going for lunch, and food never hurt anyone.

"Come on," she said, reaching over and grabbing Harry's hand before she could properly think about what she was doing. "Let's get something to eat."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**AN:** To be continued... Thanks for reading, and please review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** Sequel to "Five Years Is an Awful Lot of Later." After much stalling, Ginny goes on a date to Hogsmeade with Harry. We left them about to get lunch; in this chapter, they finally have something approaching a relaxed conversation. Fifth year AU, fluffy, mild teenage angst.

**Author's Note**: This story was begun in July of 2002 and finished in February of 2005. As such, it's not particularly compliant with OotP and HBP, though I incorporated scattered pieces of OotP canon after that book was published. The story is thus a sort of grandfathered AU -- the split point is Dolores Umbridge's death sometime before the end of GoF. No Umbridge means no dementor attack on Harry and Dudley, which means that Harry and Ginny did _not_ interact that summer. It also removes a significant source of stress from their school life.

As always, thanks to my betas: Lasair, Miss Cora, and Quetzle. Any remaining canon goofs, grammar mistakes, continuity errors, implausible characterizations, bad dialogue, boring passages, and Americanisms are my fault, not theirs. Also, this story was previously published on Astronomy Tower at FictionAlley -- I've tweaked it a little, though, because I am a compulsive editor. :-)

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  
**First You Have to Get There: Chapter 4  
**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Senses of Humor:**

They ended up in the Hog's Head tavern for lunch, since neither Harry nor Ginny was particularly interested in going back to the Three Broomsticks or to one of the fancier tea shops. Harry looked around the dingy room with distaste, but Ginny pulled him over to a battered table.

"It looks awful, I know," she said, "but the food's cheap and it doesn't taste half bad. Just remember not to use any glasses from the bar -- they're mostly for show. The kitchen ones are actually clean."

Harry examined the sole of his shoe, frowning. "I think I stepped in someone else's lunch. When have you been here before?"

"Daphne decided we were going exploring last year," said Ginny, "and you don't say no to Daphne. She thinks this place has atmosphere -- I think she's nuts -- but at least people don't stare at you here."

Harry looked around the room, his glance skipping over several people in hooded cloaks who were attempting to vanish into shadowy corners, a heavily veiled witch, and a man with a leather eye-patch at the bar, who glared when he noticed Harry watching him.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I can see that."

Ginny stifled a giggle.

The barman shuffled out from behind the bar and hung resentfully over the table. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Are you paying, or are we going Dutch?" Ginny asked Harry.

He blinked. "Er, I'll pay?"

"Good." Ginny turned to the barman. "Steak and kidney pie, thanks. And butterbeer."

The barman shifted his watery glare to Harry, who mumbled, "Bangers and mash." The barman nodded and shuffled off through a doorway, presumably to the kitchen.

Ginny and Harry looked at each other. "Are you sure about this?" asked Harry.

"Yeah. I _said_ the food's not half bad." Ginny sighed. "Thanks for paying. We never have steak and kidney pie at home -- Mum says steak's too expensive, and she's not going to put up with cows in the yard along with the chickens."

Harry shook his head. "I can't believe you like that -- it's as nasty as liver."

Ginny shrugged. "I always wanted to try it when I was little and I finally talked Mum into making it once. The kidney bits are a little rubbery and slimy, but I like the taste -- I wish we got it more often at Hogwarts."

Harry made a face. "I'd rather be on Dudley's diet. Kidney's horrible."

Ginny hid a grin. "The kidney," she said solemnly, imitating Apple's lecturing tone, "is the organ of the body where urine and other poisons are separated from the blood, concentrated, and sent to the bladder for elimination. As such, it's riddled with all sorts of chemicals the human body finds poisonous in large quantities. Are you sure you don't want any?"

Harry shot her a sour look.

Ginny snickered. "Sorry. But I _am_ related to Fred and George."

"You hide it pretty well," said Harry. "I never noticed you had much sense of humor." There was a brief moment of silence, and then Harry seemed to realize how that had sounded. "Er, not that you don't have a sense of humor, just that I, er... I wasn't looking?"

"Oh. Well, we didn't talk much at all, so..." Ginny trailed off, unable to think of a polite way to say, 'So of course you didn't know anything about me, you idiot.' She groped to restart the conversation. "You said something about Dudley's diet. He's your cousin, right?"

Harry grimaced. "Yeah."

"Why is he on a diet? The twins said he was like a giant human pig, but he can't really be that fat, can he?"

"You'd be surprised," said Harry. "Dudley... he's stupid and he's a bully," -- here his face darkened slightly -- "but he's easy to wind up. And yeah, he really was that fat -- he needed custom-made uniforms for his school, because you can't buy regular sizes that big!"

Ginny gaped. "You're pulling my leg."

"I'm not, I swear." Harry grinned at a sudden memory. "When Hagrid came to give me my Hogwarts letter, he got angry and tried to turn Dudley into a pig. But he only grew a pig's tail. Hagrid said it was because he was too much like a pig already -- the spell didn't have anything else to do."

Ginny laughed; she couldn't help herself. It seemed a bit mean, laughing at someone who'd been the victim of a spell he couldn't defend against, but the idea of a human pig... well it _was_ funny. And Dudley had probably deserved something nasty after bullying Harry for years -- from what she'd pieced together about Harry's life, Ginny strongly suspected his family had treated him rather like a house elf.

At that point, the barman shuffled over to their table, levitating two plates and two bottles of butterbeer by his side, and conversation ceased for a minute as Ginny and Harry busied themselves with their food.

When Harry began talking again, he turned to the new Defense teacher, Professor Fade. She'd been an Unspeakable, apparently, and was serving a one-year term at Hogwarts as part of a compromise between Dumbledore and the Ministry.

"She's odd," concluded Harry, after they compared her behavior in their respective classes. "Won't teach anything but theory, but she practically shoved us into forming out-of-class practice groups. And when I say anything about Voldemort, she just gives me that creepy smile and acts like I don't exist."

"Really? Well, she probably can't agree with you or she'll lose her job," said Ginny. "She can't disagree with Minister Fudge, after all, and he won't admit anything's wrong. I bet she's not allowed to teach practical Defense either."

Harry swallowed a bit of potato. "Maybe. But she's still creepy. And I don't trust her."

Ginny shrugged and went back to her pie.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Social Dynamics and the Complications Thereof:**

It was strange, Ginny thought, as Harry went to the bar to pay their bill. She kept sticking her foot in her mouth, but now she thought about it, so did Harry. And he was willing to let her scramble around to restart their conversations, even if he wasn't much good at thinking of topics himself. He was also willing to not bother her when she was thinking and to listen when she talked about Tom.

This wasn't anything like the sort of day she'd expected. She'd pictured two outcomes -- hideous embarrassment, or a sort of dreamy perfect happiness -- but this awkwardness and tentative friendship by turns didn't fit either pattern.

Actually, Ginny was glad the day hadn't gone perfectly. She'd learned a lot about Harry from the way they kept running into each other's sore points. Harry was still Harry -- still too good-looking for her peace of mind, with his messy black hair and brilliant green eyes -- still with that core of unassuming goodness and strength -- but now she knew, really _knew_, that he was also a fifteen year old boy. He had a temper, he could be a stubborn idiot, and he was more clueless about girls than all of her brothers put together, with the possible exception of Ron.

Funny. She'd never really thought of Harry as a boy before, with all the attendant idiocy and irritating habits. He'd been Harry, her hero. He still was, of course, Ginny assured herself as he walked through the door to join her outside the Hog's Head. But now he was just plain Harry as well, which she'd never quite realized down in her gut before.

"You know," she said, feeling a need to tell him at least part of this. "I always used to say that it wasn't fair to treat you like a celebrity instead of a real person. But I treated you like a celebrity anyhow."

Harry looked confused. "What?"

"See, I used to tell my friends that yes, you're a hero, you saved my life -- but you're just a person, too. You're Ron's friend, you skive off your homework, you make mistakes." Ginny waved her hands. "Not bad mistakes, but enough so you're not perfect. And that means you're human.

"I said all that, but I never tried to talk to you. I was too embarrassed, because you'd saved my life, because you _are_ a hero. So even though I said it wasn't fair to treat you differently, I treated you differently anyhow."

"Huh." Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "No wonder I don't have any friends."

"Sorry about that," said Ginny, wincing.

Harry shook his head. "It's not your fault. I just..." He paused, looking at the other people on the street, and lowered his voice to a vicious whisper. "I'm supposed to be a hero, right? Voldemort's back and he wants to kill me. There were Aurors all around when Professor Lupin took me to King's Cross, Professor Fade told _me_ to form Defense groups, _I'm_ the one who feels it when Voldemort's happy or angry -- and _nobody tells me anything_."

He was walking faster now, almost stalking, and Ginny hurried to keep up. "It's like I'm a tool they keep in a box and only take out for special occasions. But either I'm going to have to face Voldemort or I'm not -- and if I _am_, I want to know what's going on!"

Ginny flinched at the scowl fixed on Harry's mouth and the dark shadows in his eyes. "They don't tell us anything either," she said tentatively. "We tried spying on Order meetings this summer but they caught on pretty quickly. Some of them don't want to keep you in the dark, but I think everyone else is worried about upsetting you."

"Voldemort wants me dead. How is having no idea what he's up to supposed to calm me down?"

Ginny shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest idea, especially since I know you'll end up right in the middle of everything anyway. And this time, I'm coming too!" She glanced up the street, still fairly empty at this end of town, and added, "So are Ron and Hermione, who, by the way, are headed right for us."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Friends and Family:**

Harry stuffed his scowl away and turned a vaguely happy face toward his friends. "Hi, Ron. Hi, Hermione."

"Hey, Harry," returned Ron. Then, while Hermione cornered Harry, he drifted to Ginny's side and muttered, "He hasn't done anything awful, has he? Because even if he's my friend..."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother. "Grow up! We just talked and ate lunch. I did more with Eugene Skelter last year."

A thunderous frown spread over Ron's face. "Eugene Skelter? What did _he_ do?"

"Gave me chocolates and kissed me on the cheek." Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Chocolates?" Ron's scowl deepened.

Ginny hid a grin -- Ron was far too easy to wind up. "Yeah, really nice ones, with fillings and everything. For Valentine's Day. It was awfully romantic..." She paused significantly. "Of course, he's going out with Jasmine Pringle from Hufflepuff now."

"The sodding bastard left you for a Hufflepuff?" Oh, that was just beautiful, the way Ron flushed and clenched his fists. She'd better pull the rug out before he stomped off to do something rash.

"No, you toad-licker -- I turned him down." Ginny tossed her head in imitation of Susan's I-am-the-queen-of-all-I-survey gesture, and beamed at Ron's befuddled expression. "Girls can do that, you know."

Ron glanced guiltily at Hermione, a half-second's flicker of his eyes that Ginny would have missed if she hadn't been watching for it. He still remembered the Yule Ball, then. Good. Ron was a boy so Ginny took occasional fits of drastic stupidity for granted, but that had definitely been one of his worse moments.

As his sister and Hermione's friend, she was doubly bound to remind him of it.

Anyhow, she didn't want to let Hermione monopolize Harry -- not that she had any suspicion of her friend, but she didn't want to lose her new ability to actually talk to Harry and she needed to distract Ron before he realized she'd been winding him up on purpose.

"So," Ginny said loudly, pulling closer to Harry and Hermione, "what did you and Ron do without us?"

Hermione smiled ruefully. "Nothing in particular, unfortunately. Ron took forever in Zonko's and Honeydukes, of course, but I finally managed to get to the bookstore."

"It's not like you didn't take bloody forever in _there_," Ron protested. "Then you had to go and help Neville buy more potions ingredients -- bloody useless if you ask me -- he'll just blow them all up again."

"Ron! Language!" Hermione's eyes flashed. "You shouldn't poke fun at Neville. It isn't his fault Snape makes him nervous."

"Snape's a greasy bastard," muttered Harry, to which all three nodded in agreement.

"He swoops around and glares at you like an overgrown bat," said Ginny, "or sits at his desk and oozes nastiness around the room. _Everyone_ drops the wrong things into cauldrons when he pops up behind your back."

Hermione sniffed. "It's entirely his fault my hex-detection potion from last week was ruined, but he took five points off Gryffindor anyway. Would it kill him to be fair now and then?"

"It might, actually," said Ron, sounding oddly thoughtful. "We told you what he was like over the summer, right, Harry? Acted like he was fighting a war all by himself and everyone else was getting in his way.

"We walked in on him and Sir-- on him and Snuffles about to hex each other, once," Ron continued. "You remember, Ginny? Snape said he was just -- what did he say -- oh yeah, 'getting rid of dead weight,' and then he flapped out. Didn't even care that it was Snuffles's house, or that he'd get kicked out of the Order if he did anything. It's like he cares more about hating people than anything else."

Harry had sunk into glowering silence during this speech, and Ginny glared at her brother, her hand snaking over to clutch Harry's arm without conscious direction. It wasn't enough that _she'd_ been hitting all Harry's sore points -- now Ron had to join in? Why couldn't he ever use his brain when he was dealing with people? It was a lot easier than chess.

Ginny cast a significant glance at Hermione, who was studying Harry with a worried expression. When that didn't work, Ginny added a cough and raised her eyebrows when Hermione turned toward the sound; she flicked her eyes from Harry to Ron.

"Oh!" said Hermione, and then, more calmly, "Oh, Ron, I just remembered -- there was a book I wanted to buy, but I forgot about it when Neville ran into us. Come help me find it again." She grabbed Ron's arm and tugged him in the direction of the high street.

"But--" said Ron, and then caught the glare Ginny turned on him. He looked from her to Harry, saw Harry's blank, abstracted gaze and dark scowl, and seemed to light up with comprehension. "Oh. Right. Later, Harry."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Letters:**

Ginny sighed in relief as Hermione and Ron walked off. "Harry?" she asked, shaking his arm. Wait. Since when had she been holding his arm? How had she not noticed that? Had _he_ noticed that?

Think about that later, she told herself. Right now, worry about snapping him out of his brooding. "Harry? Harry, stop sulking!"

"I'm not sulking," said Harry. "I was thinking about Snuffles."

"Snuffles? Oh, Sirius. He hates being locked up in his house, he goes around snapping at people and then mopes for hours, he misses you, and if you really want to get in touch with him, you should try learning some code and cipher charms and sending letters through Professor Lupin or Mum." Ginny considered that. "Actually, Hermione said someone was intercepting your post, so you should let someone else send them off for you."

Harry looked at her as though she were deeply stupid. "Codes can be broken. And what makes you think people aren't watching _your_ post too? Your family's in the Order."

"Oh." That had actually never occurred to her. Wait. "You mean people are going through my _private letters?_ Scum-sucking, toad-licking, unscrupulous, pestilent bastards!"

"They might not be," said Harry, sounding surprised at her outburst. "Who do you write to, anyway? Your mum?"

"Merlin, no -- she's my mum!"

Harry blinked as if that made no sense. "Then who?"

Ginny flushed. "Bill. And Professor Lupin."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He, er, he was nice my second year, with the dementors. I kept hearing Tom and I'd feel him pulling--" Ginny cut herself off; she'd told Harry quite enough about that for one day. "Sometimes it's nice to talk to someone who isn't in the middle of everything. And he reads over my essays before they're due -- he says it reminds him of how he liked teaching."

"Oh." Harry turned them down a side street, heading back toward the castle while avoiding the high street of Hogsmeade and its freight of students. "It's good you can talk to him."

"Well, you have Snuffles," said Ginny awkwardly. "You can always write to him about things that aren't, you know, life and death. I bet he'd like that -- he's awfully bored. Even if people are reading your letters that won't give anything away." She grimaced again at the thought of people pawing through her post. It would have been worse if she'd still kept a diary and someone read that, but for obvious reasons she'd never wanted to try that again.

"I suppose," said Harry, not sounding terribly enthusiastic. "I don't want to put him... he might decide I'm in trouble and come out here again -- and I think Malfoy knows what Snuffles looks like."

"Oh. Yeah, that could be bad."

Actually, thought Ginny, it was almost as if Harry was looking for reasons _not_ to write to Sirius. Did he really think a weekly report of what he did in lessons would bring his godfather down to Hogwarts on a crazed rescue mission? Then again, Harry was obviously no good at starting conversations, and he kept clamming up, brooding, or getting angry when she got too close to something personal. Maybe he just didn't know what to say.

Or maybe he'd decided Sirius was a sort of substitute father. It was awfully hard to write letters to parents -- you always worried what they'd think about you.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Kissing, Revisited:**

They walked in silence until they were almost back to Hogwarts -- Ginny torn between worrying about Harry and admiring the colors of early autumn leaves, and Harry presumably brooding about Sirius again. As they passed the Shrieking Shack, Ginny let her hand slip down his arm until Harry absently caught hold with his own hand. He probably didn't mean anything by it, no more than he'd meant anything by holding her hand on their way into town that morning, but Ginny liked the contact. This time she wasn't fretting and letting her hands get sweaty with nervousness.

At the castle doors, Harry drew to a stop and released her hand. "Erm."

"Yes?" asked Ginny.

"I'm sorry I wasn't better company, and, er, thanks?"

Oh? Oh! "You were fine," Ginny said hastily. "And thanks for coming with me. I had a good time, and I'm glad we got to know each other better."

Harry flushed. "Yeah, me too." There was a drawn-out pause. "Are we supposed to do anything now?"

Oh God, not now! She'd got over being nervous, she'd got over expecting anything romantic, she'd been learning how to be his friend, and _now_ he was asking about kissing? "Maybe?" said Ginny, the squeak creeping back into her voice. "If you want to?"

"Oh. Er..." Harry stared blankly at nothing in particular.

Right. Okay. This was it. Take a chance, Susan had said this morning; boys aren't likely to say no to pretty girls who want to kiss them. What was the worst that could happen?

Ginny leaned forward, rose on her toes, tilted her head a little to the right, and, mouth barely open, kissed Harry -- using _no_ tongue; that still sounded icky, no matter what Susan said.

Harry twitched, and then tentatively kissed back.

The press of lips on lips was, for lack of a better word, strange. His were a little chapped, and she could taste the butterbeer they'd both been drinking. This wasn't something to get all that excited about -- it was warm and pleasant, but there wasn't any desperate passion. Maybe that took practice?

After a few seconds, Ginny pulled back. "There."

Harry seemed slightly dazed, green eyes wide with some unnamed emotion. "Oh. Er, yeah." He reached for Ginny's hand again, but at the last moment he pulled back and shoved his hands into his pockets.

They walked into the castle, heading for Gryffindor Tower.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**AN:** To be continued... Thanks for reading, and please review!


	5. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** Sequel to "Five Years Is an Awful Lot of Later." After much stalling, Ginny goes on a date to Hogsmeade with Harry. We left them as they parted ways in Gryffindor tower; now Ginny has to rehash the day with her friends. Fifth year AU, fluffy, mild teenage angst.

**Author's Note**: This story was begun in July of 2002 and finished in February of 2005. As such, it's not particularly compliant with OotP and HBP, though I incorporated scattered pieces of OotP canon after that book was published. The story is thus a sort of grandfathered AU -- the split point is Dolores Umbridge's death sometime before the end of GoF. No Umbridge means no dementor attack on Harry and Dudley, which means that Harry and Ginny did _not_ interact that summer. It also removes a significant source of stress from their school life.

As always, thanks to my betas: Lasair, Miss Cora, and Quetzle. Any remaining canon goofs, grammar mistakes, continuity errors, implausible characterizations, bad dialogue, boring passages, and Americanisms are my fault, not theirs. Also, this story was previously published on Astronomy Tower at FictionAlley -- I've tweaked it a little, though, because I am a compulsive editor. :-)

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  
**First You Have to Get There: Epilogue  
**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Silent Agreements:**

They reached Gryffindor Tower without any bother -- most of the students were still in Hogsmeade, and the first and second years were either outside or holed up somewhere instead of wandering the corridors. Ginny was relieved. After kissing Harry, she was certain she couldn't meet anyone she knew without giving everything away with a volcanic blush.

"Kneazles," said Harry to the Fat Lady, who beamed at them as she swung aside. He helped Ginny climb through the portrait hole, and then, still holding her hand, cleared his throat. "So."

"Yeah." Determined not to fall back into monosyllabic awkwardness, Ginny hurried on. "Thanks for going with me. I was really nervous about asking you, and then I was afraid everything would go wrong today, but I had fun. And I definitely want to be your friend."

Harry gave an awkward shrug and half-smile. "There's nothing to be nervous about -- I think you're nice -- and if anything went wrong it was probably my fault. Sorry. And, er, I'd like to be your friend too. If you want."

His voice sounded funny at the end. Either she'd completely screwed up -- Ginny panicked, then remembered he'd just said she was nice and that any problems were _his_ fault -- or... or maybe he'd liked the kiss?

"I'd like that," she said, "at least to start?"

Harry swallowed, and then smiled. "Yeah. It's a good place to start."

The portrait hole swung open behind them and he flushed. "Er, I have to write ten inches for Charms," he said quickly. "But I'll talk to you later?"

Ginny squeezed his hand for a second. "Definitely."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Interrogations:**

An hour later, Ginny lay on her bed, tapping her quill against her chin as she attempted to determine the key ingredient in a potion for which Snape had provided only brewing instructions and a description of its intended effect. Her parchment roll was covered in scribbled notes, but her mind kept drifting away.

She'd kissed Harry. He'd kissed her back. He wanted to be friends. Maybe he wanted more. He thought she was nice.

Nice was a vague word -- what did it really mean, being nice? Did it mean he thought she was comfortable, sweet, or safe? Or did it mean he thought she was pretty, maybe even sexy? Did it mean he didn't want to upset her by telling her his problems, or did it mean that he thought she'd actually understand them and listen to him?

Boys! Why couldn't they ever say anything clearly?

But Harry _had_ kissed her back. Ginny stopped fighting the huge smile that had been spreading over her face whenever she wasn't paying attention.

"Aha!"

As the door slammed against the wall, Ginny tried to look composed and busy, but it was too late. Susan dashed across the room and jumped onto Ginny's bed, bouncing beside her friend. "I saw that!" she said. "Nobody smiles like that unless something really good happened. Soooo... did you kiss him?"

Ginny flushed.

Susan grinned. "You did! Oooh! That's great! What did he say afterward? Where did you go before lunch? We looked all over town for you but you'd vanished. What did you talk about? Are you going out for real now? Tell me everything!"

Ginny whapped Susan's head with her parchment. "It's none of your business!"

"On the contrary, I think it is," said Apple from her station by the door. "Susan convinced you to ask Harry out in the first place, remember, and she provided advice on kissing. You owe her some vicarious enjoyment."

"And what's your excuse?" asked Ginny.

Apple smiled. "I'm her faithful assistant, naturally. Besides, I have Colin's camera and Daphne has an infatuation potion we can mix into the developing baths -- do you want us to post pictures of you and Harry snogging all over the castle?"

Ginny groaned and slumped against her pillow. "You're evil, both of you."

"Whatever you say, Ginny," said Susan. "Now tell us everything!"

"Well, we had a drink at the Three Broomsticks -- which you already know," said Ginny, glaring at Apple. "Then we walked down to the lake and talked for a while. We had lunch at the Hog's Head, met with Ron and Hermione, and came back to the castle. Erm. We've decided to be friends and sort of... see what happens."

Susan snatched the parchment from Ginny's hands and shook it in her face. "What about the kiss? Tell us about the kiss!"

Ginny flushed again. "When we got back to the castle, he said thanks for coming with him, so I said thanks back. Then he asked if we were supposed to do anything, I suppose because I'd said it was a date, not just getting to know him as a friend. So I said we could if he wanted. Then he kind of froze, and I thought, well, I might not ever get another chance. So I kissed him."

Apple and Susan exchanged glances. "And?"

"And what?"

"And what was it like, you ninny!" said Susan, brandishing the parchment.

Ginny shrugged. "It was nice."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Nice, she says. _Nice_. Of all the words in the world, she picks _nice_. Could you _be_ any vaguer?"

Ginny grinned. "Maybe. But that's all you're getting."

"Apple, the subject is resisting," said Susan, dropping the parchment to grab hold of Ginny's arm. "We need stronger persuasion techniques; you hold her down while I tickle her. Come on, help me out here."

Ginny wiggled, trying to catch Apple's eye while she fended off Susan's fingers. 'I'll tell you later,' she mouthed, doing her best to look sincere, and tipped her head at Susan.

Apple's dark eyes glinted. "Of course I'll help you, Susan," she said in her best deadpan voice. "I suspect that being raised in a large family has permanently destroyed your sense of societal boundaries, and thus sadly forced you onto a path of unwelcome inquisitiveness that will end with you as a complete social pariah unless swift intervention is made. Please, Susan, let us help you help yourself."

"You toad-licking cow!" Susan leaped from Ginny's bed to harangue Apple, who winked at Ginny and slipped out of the room with Susan in hot pursuit.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Of Journeys and the Land of Romance:**

"So what _was_ the kiss like?" asked Apple that evening, as she and Ginny sat at a table in the library, nominally working on a two-foot Transfiguration essay. "And why didn't you want to tell Susan?"

"It was nice," said Ginny. "Really. I liked it -- it was warm, and it was _Harry_ -- but it wasn't all that special." She shrugged. "Susan always makes such a big deal over boys and kissing. I _do_ like Harry, and I think maybe he likes me too, but Susan would act like it's a catastrophe if I told her the kiss wasn't the best thing that's ever happened to me. Does that make sense?"

Apple nodded. "It makes a lot of sense -- there's potential for something, and you want to see where it leads, but potential love isn't the same as realized love. Susan thinks everything has to be realized immediately. She doesn't understand waiting."

"Yeah," said Ginny. "I'm glad she made me stop waiting for Harry to notice me, but I think I can manage on my own from now on."

"All on your own?" said Apple, raising an eyebrow. "And what will Harry be doing?"

Ginny flushed. "You know what I meant. Maybe I'll ask her advice again if I do end up being Harry's girlfriend, but for now I'm just his friend."

"Ah, I see," said Apple, nodding sagely. "When you reach the mysterious land of couplehood, you'll ask advice from the native guide, but you're wise enough to realize that you have to get there before the directions make any sense. I commend your wisdom, oh traveler through the country of romance."

"You're as bad as Susan," grumbled Ginny. "I'm not talking to you anymore."

Apple shrugged and returned to her writing.

Ginny tapped her quill against her chin, thinking about what Apple had said. Potential love and realized love. That was something she'd never be able to explain to Susan -- and it was _such_ an Apple way to phrase the idea -- but it was exactly right. Ginny smiled as she remembered Harry's smile in the common room. Maybe he was ready for more than just being friends. Maybe she was too. But they weren't there yet.

Still, they'd learned how to talk to each other. They'd shared secrets. They'd kissed. For travelers navigating the land of romance without maps, as Apple would say, they hadn't done badly at all.

Ginny's smile widened. Whatever happened, things would work out in the end. Everything would. She'd make sure of it.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**The End**

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**AN:** Thanks for reading, and please review!

You know, the terrible thing about this story is that I began writing it as a personal antidote to some horrible H/G stories I'd read in early 2002. I wanted to show Harry and Ginny as actual people with actual lives, getting to know each other as such. Looking back from late 2005, after the publication of OotP and HBP, I find that it's become my antidote to canon as well. I like both Harry and Ginny and I think they'd do well together. JKR apparently thinks so too, but she has yet to convince me that she can write them together in any realistic fashion.


End file.
